


Only You to Trust

by punk_rock_yuppie



Category: The Flash (TV 2014)
Genre: Dirty Dancing, Established Relationship, M/M, Roleplaying/Fantasies, Smut, slight AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-26
Updated: 2016-03-26
Packaged: 2018-05-29 03:09:19
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,490
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6356539
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/punk_rock_yuppie/pseuds/punk_rock_yuppie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Or, the slight AU where Dante was never kidnapped by the Rogues and tries to set Cisco up with Mick at a bar.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Only You to Trust

**Author's Note:**

> I was inspired to write some random pwp for this pairing, my new obsession. thanks to tricks-treats and elrhiarhoden for being my betas! title comes from 'the hills' by the weeknd, i highly recommend listening to that to get into the right mood.

“Psst, Cisco, hey, _hermanito_ , listen.”

Cisco turns to Dante, thankful for the alcohol already buzzing in his system. “What?” He asks cautiously; he’s wary of what might come out of his brother’s mouth next. Where Cisco is pleasantly drunk, not too far gone but just enough, Dante is well on his way to getting elegantly smashed and loud-mouthed. Cisco waits for Dante to finish his drink before asking again, “What, Dante? What is so important—?”

“The bouncer is totally checking you out.” Dante hisses as he leans closer. He’s not a sloppy drunk by any means, just an obnoxious one.

Cisco pretends he’s not blushing brightly when he looks over to where Dante is not-so-subtly pointing. By the door, arms crossed and a stern expression in place is _Mick Rory_. Cisco yelps and whips back around to practically cling to the bar. He’s not sure if he’s more alarmed at Mick’s presence or the fact that Dante is at least half right: Mick is _definitely_ leering at Cisco. His heart begins to pound as thoughts race through his head. What if Mick is staring because he’s planning an ambush? Does that mean the Snarts are around here somewhere? Should Cisco drag Dante outside and book it?

Cisco is so busy trying to come up with a reason to leave he doesn’t notice Dante slip away from the bar. By the time Dante returns, Cisco has by-passed coming up with an excuse and is typing out an S.O.S. text to Barry.

Dante reaches over and plucks Cisco’s phone from his hands. “Hey, listen,” he says again.

Cisco bristles and reaches for his phone to no avail. “No, Dante, you don’t understand, we need to go.”

Dante looks sufficiently put out by Cisco’s demand. “Why? I talked to the bouncer for you. His shift ends in fifteen minutes, he said he’ll buy you a drink once he’s off.” The innocent way Dante bats his eyes is rendered ineffective due to the dopey grin on his face. “I’ll make myself scarce.” Dante promises, nodding, so sure of himself that he’s doing his little brother a good deed.

Cisco makes a noise that’s caught somewhere between a screech and a hysterical laugh. Dante doesn’t seem to notice.

 

Twenty minutes later Cisco is still trying to wrestle his phone from Dante and Mick strolling over. He stands beside the brothers and waits for them to notice: Dante grins again when he does, and Cisco squeaks. Cisco does take advantage of Mick’s somewhat unexpected arrival to snatch his phone out of Dante’s hands. He returns to composing his mayday message while Dante stares at Mick.

Cisco looks up—his mayday message might be getting a little long, his fingers could use a break—to see that Dante is slipping away again and Mick is just as slowly sliding into the vacant seat beside Cisco. Cisco stares, now, and can’t for the life of him think of what to say.

Mick just smiles back. He turns and taps the counter, immediately drawing the attention of the bartender. “A whiskey neat, and…” He trails off, looking to Cisco.

Cisco blurts out the first drink he can think of, not even something he particularly likes, “a Mai Tai.” He’s thankful when Mick doesn’t comment. The bartender just nods and turns to start fixing the drinks. Cisco, despite the nagging feeling in his gut, relaxes a bit. He hits the lock button in his phone, S.O.S. message unsent for now. “So, uh, you do remember who I am, right?” Cisco asks slowly, wondering if maybe Mick has forgotten and is just genuinely hitting on him.

Mick snorts. “Yeah, kid, I remember.” When the bartender sets his whiskey neat on the counter, Mick pulls the glass closer.

Cisco nods, stuttering out a ‘thank you’ when his Mai Tai is finished. He lifts the drink off the counter and sips eagerly at it so he doesn’t have to speak.

“You don’t seem like the type.” Mick remarks.

“The type?”

“To be at a place like this.” Mick tilts his head towards the thriving, grinding bodies on the dance floor.

Cisco blushes. “Uh.” It’s definitely not his usual place, given that he and Caitlin usually frequent the karaoke bar not far from S.T.A.R. Labs. “Yeah, not really.” He admits. “It’s Dante’s favorite, apparently.” He sucks at the straw in his drink insistently. “I just got dragged along.” Cisco shrugs. He finally concedes defeat and sets down his half-empty drink. It’s not bad, just not his favorite drink and if he keeps sucking it down as a bad excuse to avoid talking, he’s going to be far too drunk in no time. “Why are you here?”

Cisco bites his tongue there, before he can elaborate and makes things _more_ awkward. He stops himself before he can say things like _is Leonard here_ or _is Lisa here_ or _are you guys pulling a heist right?_

Mick grins around the rim of his glass. He licks his lips of stray whiskey before replying. “Work as a bouncer sometimes to pad the wallet. It’s easy, I like it. Keeps Lenny out of my hair every so often.”

The question of _what hair_ rests on the tip of his tongue, but Mick shoots him a warning look that kills the taunt.

Cisco redirects the conversation away from anything regarding hair, a lack thereof. “You’d rather deal with a bunch of rowdy drunks than Snart?”

“Been stuck by his side for thirty years, need a break sometimes or we’d kill each other.”

Cisco chokes on his next laugh because it mixes in his throat with a noise of surprise. “Jeez, you guys have known each other that long?” He asks, body relaxing further. He leans against the bar and only lets himself lean a little closer to Mick. If Mick leans in, too, Cisco tells himself it’s probably just to hear Cisco better, because the bar is so loud.

“Saved his ass in juvie, and he’s been a monkey on my back ever since.” Mick’s tone is almost alarmingly fond—Cisco is only the tiniest bit alarmed when he realizes it’s the way Dante sometimes talks about _him_. “I’d do anything for him, but _shit_ , sometimes a man needs a break.”

“Yeah.” Cisco nods. “I get that.” He adds, because he thinks he does. Maybe not on the _same_ level, but on some level he understands. Tacking on those three little words is worth it when Mick shoots him a wider, brighter grin. Cisco hides his own smile in his drink again.

“Gonna ask why I’m buying you a drink?” Mick asks when there’s a lull in the music.

“I figure it’s either an elaborate plot to rob the place, or an elaborate plot to kidnap me. Either way, I’m probably gonna be too drunk to really stop you.”

“You too drunk to dance?” Mick asks abruptly, already standing. He’s holding out a hand to Cisco and the music finally resumes. It’s some song with a steady beat and sultry, dirty lyrics. Cisco’s blush returns as he just stares at the proffered hand. “C’mon, I’ll hold you up.” Mick teases.

Cisco vows to himself that if anyone ever asks why he decided to accept a dance with Mick Rory he would soundly blame alcohol. His hand slides into Mick’s, and Cisco is surprised by the warmth. Sure, the bar is hot and as they move closer to the throng of people dancing, it’s sweaty and sticky and even hotter—but Mick’s heat is something different. It’s cozy, almost, and Cisco doesn’t feel too warm when he’s pulled chest to chest with the older man. Even amidst the other writhing bodies, Mick’s warmth is comforting rather than not.

Cisco’s arms wind naturally around Mick’s shoulders and Mick’s hands are greedy to grab Cisco’s hips. They sway in time to the music, less frantic than the people around them. Cisco feels loose-limbed and lighthearted as he curls a hand around the back of Mick’s neck. In the back of his mind, a nagging voice that sounds an awful lot like Barry, somber and serious, reminds him to be cautious. The alcohol muddling his thoughts counters with its own voice, one that sounds like Caitlin at peak inebriation, and that voice reminds Cisco that _really_ , what’s the _worst_ that could happen? Live a little!

Cisco blinks into awareness, voices fading, as the song changes again. This beat is even slower but the bodies around them grind and writhe even more. Cisco can’t really blame them, given that the rhythm and instruments get under his skin easily and it ignites a fire in his belly, a craving in his veins. It’s because of those feelings that Cisco turns in Mick’s grasps. Mick’s chest is burning hot against Cisco’s back and his hands flex possessively on Cisco’s hips. Cisco’s arms are still bent and wrapped around Mick’s neck and shoulders; he tilts his head back so that their bodies are aligned from top to bottom.

Mick’s fingertips glide along the waistband of Cisco’s jeans; they rise, just a bit, to tease the skin of his stomach. Cisco arches into the touch, his back curving like a bow and his ass pressing back against Mick—only a little unintentional. Mick grunts and when his grip tightens, his nails bite into Cisco’s skin. Mick leans forward and nips at Cisco’s earlobe, chuckling when Cisco’s whole body shudders.

The beat of the chorus is rhythmic but odd and Mick rolls his hips in time to it. Cisco can feel the denim-clad press of Mick’s hard cock against the small of his back, and it’s as nerve-wracking as it is arousing. Cisco groans and grinds back as best he can; this isn’t something he usually does but his mind feels both hazy and clear at the same time. The alcohol in his veins and the smoke in the bar make him feel dizzy and make his mind is fuzzy. Mick’s heat and pressure against him, though, clears Cisco’s mind just find and leaves room for only one emotion: _lust_.

Cisco tilts his head to look back at Mick. Mick’s eyes are heavy and half-closed and his breath is coming out in harsh gasps. Cisco can’t help but smile. There’s something about the power of reducing a man, especially one like Mick Rory, to a horny mess. As the song shifts into the second verse, Cisco grinds quicker. He drops a hand and links fingers with Mick. Feeling emboldened by Mick’s reactions so far, Cisco drags their linked hands to his clothed, straining cock.

Mick startles and moans loud enough to draw attention from other bar-goers.

Cisco doesn’t even care, at this point. He turns to face Mick better and speaks before his nerves get the better of him. “We need to get out of here.” He demands, pleased when Mick just nods. “I—Dante and I caught a cab here.” He mentions as Mick clears a path through the crowd toward the front entrance. He doesn’t get an answer aside from Mick dragging him towards a sleek black car. “Please tell me that’s not stolen.”

“I’m gonna pretend you didn’t ask, kid.” Mick retorts as he holds the door open for Cisco. “Think you can keep it in your pants for ten minutes?” He asks with a smirk.

Cisco doesn’t have a chance to answer until Mick is sliding into the driver’s seat. Once the car has roared to life and the music is set to a low hum, Cisco leans back in the seat. He purposefully runs his hands down his own body, stopping to grope his own cock as Mick watches. “I don’t know. You’re probably gonna have to run a few red lights.”

Mick’s laughs. “Already planning on it.”

 

Cisco lets himself get slammed against the front door to Mick’s apartment. Mick is kissing him distractedly, while he digs for his keys to the door. Out the corner of his eye Cisco can see an elderly neighbor lady stick her head out into the hall and frown with disapproval. Cisco bites Mick’s lip for show and is rewarded with an obscene grunt, and the lady slams her door shut with a huff. Cisco is still laughing when they finally stumble inside Mick’s apartment.

Cisco is slammed against the door again, now shut and locked with both of them inside the apartment. He loops his arms across Mick’s shoulders and pulls him closer. The kiss deepens and Cisco lets Mick take control, lets Mick trace every inch of Cisco’s mouth with his tongue. When Mick’s hands glide to cup Cisco’s ass, he takes the cue and winds his legs around Mick’s waist. Mick holds him up against the door easily, like Cisco weighs next to nothing.

It’s really hot, Cisco decides.

Mick groans into the kiss, pulling back just enough to breathe. “You’re gonna kill me, kid.”

Cisco grins. “Nah,” he rolls his hips, “bedroom?”

Mick nods. His grip on Cisco’s ass tightens so that when they pull away from the wall, Cisco is still held up steady. Mick walks with ease toward his bedroom even as Cisco tries to distract him by peppering kisses along his jawline. Mick kicks open the door and his grip on Cisco never one falters. Cisco moans at the action alone and tries to press himself closer to Mick.

Mick doesn’t so much drop him onto the bed as throw him onto it, quickly covering Cisco’s body with his own. Mick holds himself up over Cisco, though, and stares. “Live up to your fantasies?” He asks after a pause.

Cisco laughs. “It was perfect.” He agrees. “I didn’t realize you and Snart have actually known each other that long, though.” Everything else, he knew—like the fact that Mick really did sometimes take on jobs as a bouncer and how he did it to clear his head after particularly intense heists.

Mick drops his head to Cisco’s shoulder. “Please don’t talk ‘bout Lenny in the bedroom.”

Cisco mimes zipping his lips shut before wrapping all his limbs around Mick again. “C’mon, I’m sick of waiting.”

Mick doesn’t comment; he never comments on Cisco’s neediness because he _loves_ it. It drives Mick wild and is exactly what he wants. He never even really dares to tease Cisco for the desperation, because he needs it just as bad. Mick pulls back from Cisco’s embrace to get rid of their shirts and divest Cisco of his pants.

Cisco lets his legs fall open wide, putting his cock entirely on display for Mick.

Mick groans and immediately digs for the lube in the bedside table. “Really gonna kill me, Cisco.”

Cisco doesn’t have it in him to be coy or play cute, he just bends his knees and angles his ass up for Mick. “You’re taking too long.” He complains.

Mick, just for that, slicks up two fingers and thrusts them into Cisco without preamble. Cisco’s body stretches mostly easily, only the faintest hint of discomfort as he adjusts. They had just done this earlier this morning, in this very bed, before Cisco had to rush out and meet Dante for a ‘brother’s day out.’ Cisco’s body still remembers Mick’s touch vividly and his body welcomes the two fingers. Cisco rolls his hips to fuck himself down on Mick’s fingers.

Mick moves his fingers slowly until Cisco’s body is covered in a layer of sweat; then, he adds a third finger and moves faster, aims deeper, teasing the head of Cisco’s cock with his free hand. Cisco is on the verge of overwhelmed sobs by the time Mick pulls his fingers free and pulls off his own pants.

“Fuck, Mick, c’mon.” Cisco urges. He grips the backs of his knees and pulls them up to his chest. It’s Mick’s weakness—well, one of them. This post drives Mick crazier than most, Cisco has learned. True to form, Mick lets out a shuddering groan and presses his dick inside Cisco too fast, too much, _perfect_. Cisco rides the waves of pleasure that merge with the feeling of being stretched almost too wide. Mick’s cock is thick and he knows exactly how to thrust to hit that spot inside Cisco incessantly.

Mick lean forward to cover Cisco’s body again; he pulls at Cisco’s legs until his knees are locked over Mick’s shoulders. He’s bending Cisco’s body nearly in half as he pounds into him.

Cisco doesn’t hold back, either. “Fuck, fuck—fuck! Mick, please!” Cisco’s hair, damp with sweat, clings to his forehead and face. His hands are thrown back and gripping the pillows as he stretches his body to get Mick deeper inside. It’s never enough for Cisco; he always wants it deeper, harder, faster. Mick does his best to oblige.

His hips roll in endless motion as he thrusts his cock into Cisco over, and over, and over again. Cisco’s own dick is bouncing between them, neglected and leaking precome. Mick moves a hand to again tease the weeping head. His gets his fingertips wet with precome then raises them to his mouth to taste, eyes locked with Cisco the entire time.

Cisco keens but doesn’t look away. His face is burning with a blush but he resists the urge to bury his face in the pillows and hide. He doesn’t look away from Mick’s face and instead lets his mouth drop open in invitation. Mick slicks his thumb with Cisco’s precome, then brings the digit to his waiting mouth. Cisco sucks the thumb into his mouth obediently and moans around the way the taste of his come mixes with Mick’s skin. Mick takes his thumb back once it’s licked clean, then chases the taste in Cisco’s mouth with a kiss.

Cisco moans, muffled, into the kiss. His heels dig into Mick’s back to spur him on and Mick obliges. His thrusts are shallower but they’re faster and push Cisco to the brink of orgasm easily.

Cisco’s eyes are drooping shut as the heat pools in the base of his spine. “Mick—Mick—Mick— _fuck_ , Mick, please, please make me come.” Cisco very nearly begs. “Make me come, I need to, I need to come with you inside me.” When Mick’s fingers curl entirely around Cisco’s cock, that’s all it takes. Cisco comes from the sturdy, hot grip alone. His come spills across Mick’s hand and dribbles onto Cisco’s stomach.

Mick leans back just slightly, letting up the pressure on Cisco’s body. Cisco’s knees are still thrown over Mick’s shoulders but his body is no longer bent in half. Mick sits up so he can smear Cisco’s come around, through Cisco’s pubes and across his stomach. It’s dirty and pointless but Cisco knows Mick is kind of weird like that, and he doesn’t mind.

“Y’gonna come, Mick?” Cisco asks. The exhaustion in his body is bone-deep, but there’s a comfort in Mick’s cock pounding into him. He feels oversensitive in the best way and wants to feel Mick come inside him. “Please? Please, Mick,” Cisco’s voice is still hitching and desperate, but it’s softer than before. No longer is he wantonly shouting, instead he’s cooing to Mick just as the older man _loves_. “Mick, come inside me, please. I want to feel you.”

Mick groans and presses his forehead to Cisco’s. He mumbles something in agreement before words come spilling out in an almost shout. “Fuck, I’m going to—Cisco, I, _fuck¸_ you feel so good, so perfect around my cock.” Mick’s lips press in a wet, open-mouthed kiss against Cisco’s temple as he comes. His prick pulses inside Cisco and his possessive side flares up at the thought of his come spilling into Cisco and filling him up.

Cisco pants at the feeling, still not quite used to it and hoping he never gets used to it. He shudders when Mick pulls out; Mick’s come leaks onto the bed and it lights a smug fire in Mick’s chest. Cisco laughs because he knows that expression anywhere. The laugh draws Mick’s attention from the mess he’s made to Cisco’s face, and again he leans in to kiss Cisco desperately. Their bodies relax and slot together like perfect puzzle pieces. The kiss shifts from desperate to lazy and languid.

Cisco is the first to pull back and when he does, he flashes Mick a dazed grin. “Thank you for that.” He breathes. “We should go dancing like that more often.”

Mick busies himself with kissing Cisco’s skin while he answers. “Whatever you want, kid. Just say the word.” Mick returns from kissing Cisco’s jaw to plant a firm kiss on his lips again. They keep kissing, quick and brief and easy kisses for what feels like an eternity. When both their lips are buzzing from the sensation they pull back to pause. Mick fills the silence. “Love you, Cisco.”

Warmth blooms in Cisco’s chest. “Love you too, Mick.”


End file.
